


It's Never Too Late, But Today Is Too Soon

by Jellyfax



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfax/pseuds/Jellyfax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins, perpetual bachelor, thought that online dating might just solve his Lobelia-shaped problem, and his boyfriend-shaped lie. In the end, he supposed it did, but not quite in the way he had intended it to.</p>
<p>Inspired by <a href="http://likehemmins.tumblr.com/post/121044132161/imagine-that-youve-been-stood-up-by-your-douche">this tumblr post</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Never Too Late, But Today Is Too Soon

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a drabble on tumblr, but I kind of liked where it was going, so I'm going to write a few more chapters to go with it! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (I'm going to add extra characters and tags as I go along, so always check the tags before reading a new chapter, just in case!)

Bilbo Baggins was known to be a perpetual bachelor. Everyone in Hobbiton knew it, but then everyone in Hobbiton knew everything about everybody. It was just that kind of a village. Bilbo loved the place, a quiet little hamlet in rural Hertfordshire, it was where he had grown up, and where his home was. Bag End was, in truth, little more than a large cottage, but it had its quirks, the kind of quirks that made it unique. It had a thatched roof that was perpetually covered in moss, regardless of how many times the Bagginses had it replaced and treated. It was this green that made it look more like a hill than a house, and had inspired his grandfather to paint the big, round door a bright green to match. The round door was one of Bilbo’s favourite features. It was the only house he knew of with a perfectly circular door, and seeing it never failed to make him feel welcome. Bilbo’s favourite thing about the house though, was the expansive vegetable garden that his mother had planted and cultivated throughout her life. That was truly where he felt most at home, and closest to his late parents.

 

He loved the house, and could never bear to leave it, which was why he was stuck in a village that simply wouldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t go to the post office without a comment on whether or not he had met a “nice young lady” or not. Even the milkman would comment how he only ever left enough milk for one, and how much good it would do them both if he were to be delivering for two (or even three, he would add with a lascivious wink). He was sick to the back teeth of it. What he chose to do with his life was his choice, and no one had any say in the matter but him. That was until one sunny morning when there was a terse knock at his very round, very green front door. That was the day he was confronted with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

 

It was because of that fateful day that Bilbo now found himself sat in a nondescript Italian restaurant in Bree, at a table for two, opposite an empty seat. It served him right for trying online dating, he should have known that it was a bad idea. It was only Lobelia telling him that she deserved the house more than he did that drove him to it. He didn’t even really want to date. He hated the casual nature of it all. How anyone could get to know a person for who they really were just from fancy dinners and cinema trips he would never understand. If only he had just told her to bugger off instead of saying that he had a partner already. He supposed it was worth it just for the look on her face, at least until she had smugly called his bluff, and invited them both over for brunch. So he had hurriedly signed up for every dating site under the sun in some desperate attempt to find someone, anyone, to wipe that smug smile of Lobelia’s face. _Bilbo Baggins,_ he thought to himself as he looked over at the empty seat, _what have you got yourself into this time?_

 

He had picked at the bread basket until it was all but empty, and he had already finished the jug of water, and the glass of wine he had ordered to drink while he was waiting. It wasn’t so bad for the first ten minutes or so, in fact he was glad of the time to prepare himself for the first date he had been on since he was fourteen. Soon, though, the other guests began to notice. He would get the odd glance from a waiter as well, but it was bearable. Bilbo was certain that people were late all the time.

 

After half an hour the glances became lingering looks, pitying and jeering in equal measure. He straightened his shirt, and adjusted his jacket, desperate not to meet anyone’s eye. People often got stuck in traffic for half an hour, it was perfectly plausible that his date simply got lost, or his car had broken down. Why these people were pitying him Bilbo had no idea, or so he said to himself as he ordered another glass of wine.

 

After nearly an hour it was quite clear to everyone in the restaurant that he had been stood up. Bilbo felt fierce, hot tears building in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t upset, he was angry. He barely knew the guy from little more than a few internet chats. He had seemed pleasant enough, and had complimented Bilbo enough that it honestly seemed like he found him interesting and attractive enough to at least turn up to the date he had asked him on. Bilbo should have known _gundabadboy73_ was going to waste his time. _How dare he!_

 

Bilbo brushed the tears away with the heel of his hand, and went to check his phone again. As he did one of the waiters that had been whispering in the corner approached his table, a concerned look pasted unconvincingly on his face.

 

“Sir, I’m terribly sorry, but if you aren’t going to order anything more, then we are going to have to ask you to leave. We will soon be in need of this table.”

 

Bilbo frowned up at the man, scathing remark on his tongue, but he let it go, his shoulders falling in resignation. Perhaps the villagers were right, perhaps he really was destined to be a bachelor forever. Perhaps he really had left it too late. Perhaps Lobelia did deserve Bag End after all.

 

“I’m so sorry I’m so late. You’d not believe the traffic coming out of London.”

 

Both Bilbo and the waiter glanced up. Stood next to the table was a man that Bilbo had never seen before, and certainly didn’t look like the profile picture of his supposed date. He was tall, taller than Bilbo by at least a head, with long, dark hair, tied up in a loose, but fashionable bun, strands of premature grey falling around his face. He had a severe brow, and a prominent nose, but somehow it looked balanced, and exceedingly handsome. He waved the waiter away, instructing him to fetch a bottle of the house red, before taking his seat on the opposite side of the table.

 

He leaned over the table, voice barely a whisper, and smiled. “I couldn’t help but notice you were in a bit of trouble. So just go with it, okay?”

 

Bilbo nodded, and the man’s smile broadened. He opened the menu nonchalantly, perusing the various main courses, and commenting on each casually. Bilbo simply sat there and stared. When the man looked up from the menu he frowned.

 

“You know, you’re not doing a very good job of pretending.”

 

Bilbo shook himself from his stupor and frowned back. “I’m _terribly_ sorry, I wasn’t exactly expecting this to be sprung on me quite like this.”

 

The man raised a brow. “I’m trying to help.”

 

A proud anger began to bubble away underneath Bilbo’s skin. “Well, I never asked for your help.”

 

“I’ll just leave then, shall I?” The man replied with a slight growl, closing the menu with a snap.

 

“No!” Bilbo cried, a little louder than he had intended. “No, please. I didn’t mean it like that I just …” He trailed off and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, willing the tears not to return. When he opened his eyes again, he found the man’s expression had softened, not to pity, but almost to admiration.

 

“I understand.” He said quietly. “You didn’t ask for help, but that doesn’t mean you can’t accept it, you know. There’s no shame in being proud. I guess I _was_ getting a little ahead of myself, how about introductions?”

 

Bilbo simply nodded. The man smiled warmly again. “My name is Thorin, I’m an architect, I enjoy hiking and walking my dogs, and I think that whoever stood you up here didn’t deserve you in the first place.”

 

Ducking his head to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck, Bilbo laughed softly. “Pleased to meet you, Thorin. I’m Bilbo, I’m a writer, I practically live in my vegetable patch, and I think that I might be rather glad I got stood up tonight.”

 

When he looked up again, he found that he wasn’t the only one whose cheeks had coloured. Whatever suave attitude Thorin might have had before was lost to bashfulness now.

 

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Thorin paused, looking at his new date intently before continuing. “Bilbo.”


End file.
